


The Fox and the Grapes

by EvilMuffins



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Guro, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, light cannibalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-11-17 04:53:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11268336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilMuffins/pseuds/EvilMuffins
Summary: Yusuke bit down.It wasn’t a yelp, or anything like that, but rather a soft hiss that issued from Akira’s mouth- he was a quiet boy, even then.---Yusuke becomes aflicfted with Hunger while in the Metaverse, only to find himself unable to shake it upon his return to reality.





	The Fox and the Grapes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [labocat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/labocat/gifts).



_Pleasures are dear and difficult to get._

_Feasting the eye, fat grapes hung in the arbour,_

_That the fox could not reach, for all his labour_

 

 

Just like that, there were two black cats situated in between Yusuke and Akira, rather than just the one they had arrived with.

“Panther’s been turned into a…a panther!” came the incredulous voice of Futuba. “Joker, do you have any meds packed for that!?”

Indeed, the newly appeared cat was twice the size of Morgana, and just as confused, judging by the way she tilted her head.

Seeing as Ann was in no shape to battle, Akira quickly covered for her, summoning Jack Frost to land a frigid blow on the opposing Shadow.

The creature hissed, recoiling for a moment, before narrowing its eyes as its lips curled into a snarl. The attack had only served to make it angrier.

“You shouldn’t sound so surprised,” Yusuke retorted, “After all, it was your palace that contained a Shadow which transformed us into mice-“

“Stuff it, Inari,” Futaba bristled.

However, before Yusuke could blunder through another comeback, he quickly found that his singled mindedness had served him poorly once again. As the ground rose up to meet him, it soon became clear that arguing with Futuba had distracted him from the Shadow, allowing an opening. Looking downward, he could see four feet on the floor now, rather than the customary two- white, fluffy feet, with bean-like toes.

“Fox! He’s…he’s a fox!” Morgana pointed out needlessly.

How had he failed to notice the delightful shape of canine toes before? Yusuke wondered, regarding his newly formed paw as he turned it over in fascination. Once he went back to having hands, he’d surely need to capture the beauty of vulpine appendages on his canvas…

“Fox, get a hold of yourself!”

It wasn’t so much that Morgana’s warning came too late, as it was that Yusuke’s attention returned to the task at hand considerable moments past due.

“He’s been afflicted with Hunger!” Futaba warned. “Two status afflictions at once!? Has this ever happened before?”

Akira spared a quick shake of his head as he instructed Jack Frost to attack once again. With a sickening wail, the Shadow dissipated, not having even been afforded the chance to beg for its life.

“Ugh…What happened?” Ann groaned from where she sat on the train tracks, hand to her- thankfully, now human- temple.

Yusuke glanced down at his palms once more, only to find thumbs that were now disappointingly opposable. It was almost a shame, really. He had been warming up to the idea of learning to paint with a brush clenched between his teeth.

“You okay?” Akira asked, offering a gloved hand toward Yusuke.

Perhaps having hands was for the best, after all, Yusuke thought, as Akira hoisted him up, not letting go of his hand until they were safely back inside of the Mona van.

* * *

 

The rest of the journey through Mementos proceeded without incident, the group going their separate ways after returning to their attic hideout for the evening.

Normally, upon returning home to the dorm, Yusuke would have immediately sat down at his desk after kicking off his shoes, flipping to the next clean page in his sketch book in order to sort out the day’s events for himself by allowing the flow of graphite from his fingertips to relax his mind before bed (or rev him up for an all-night painting session, as was nearly as often the case).

Instead, he found himself peering into room’s mini-fridge first, only to find it empty as usual.

With a sigh, Yusuke perched on the edge of his bed. At times, he did wish that he had opted for the double occupancy room instead, on the off chance that whatever roommate he had been paired with might have been better at keeping food stocked than he was. He quickly brushed the idea aside. Yusuke may have been a thief, but not of the sort who would stoop to pillaging an acquaintance’s half of the fridge.

Usually the joy found in using the art supplies he had purchased with his food budget was enough to distract him from any hunger pangs, however, for once Yusuke found the gnawing sensation in his stomach far too distracting. That, combined with the fact that his limbs felt like lead (presumably from the strain of being transformed into a much smaller body, then back again, he thought), had him dragging himself into bed far earlier than usual, even foregoing pajamas to crawl underneath the covers in his sweater and boxers from the day. He had done so often enough after a long painting session to know that he would likely feel less than fresh in the morning, but sleep took him before he could convince himself otherwise.

* * *

 

Madarame had once taken the time to instruct Yusuke on the art of lucid dreaming, explaining to his young charge that being in control of his dreams would lead him to be better in control of his waking mind, and in turn the art he would produce. In doing so, Yusuke had learned to recongnise a dream when it occurred, more often than not.

Even so, the intoxicating aroma of coffee wafting out of the open door to Leblanc was convincing to the point where Yusuke hoped that he was mistaken.

Carried by the scent of the morning’s first brew, Yusuke found himself seated at the counter. If he hadn’t felt lightheaded before, seeing Akira’s soft smile there to greet him certainly set his heart into his throat.

“One house blend, please,” he requested.

Although he had told Akira a time or two already, he truly did look superb in his barista apron, Yusuke thought as Akira poured the carafe’s contents into a cup. It was unfortunate that Akira tended to brush off the compliments, likely attributing them to nothing more than Yusuke’s typical eccentricities. On the other hand, it was probably for the best- Akira needed to focus equally on all of his team members as the group’s leader. Yusuke knew that he shouldn’t impede.

With a smile of anticipation, Yusuke brought the cup to his lips, already anticipating the smooth flavor, only to be met with a salty tang instead, the liquid much thicker than expected.

“That good, huh?” Akira snorted sarcastically upon seeing Yusuke’s startled expression as he forced down the mouthful.

“What is-“ Yusuke began, as he lowered the cup, eyes growing wide upon seeing the contents- nearly as dark as coffee taken black, yet with a distinctly red tinge where it had sloshed upward around the inside rim.

“Hmm,” Akira sighed. “Guess I shouldn’t have tried to put extra love into it after all… Here, try this instead. It’s on the house.”

In place of the cup, there was a plate set on the counter before Yusuke now, the plain white kind that cheaper places bought in bulk in case any were handled carelessly. Upon it, Akira rested his arm, wrist turned upward, sleeve rolled back.

“Go on. I didn’t think you were so fussy,” the Akira before him chuckled.

Yusuke had nearly forgotten how hungry he was. He knew that it would be a shame to ruin something so beautiful without with committing it to canvas first, but just this once, he didn’t want to wait. Taking Akira’s wrist into his hand, his mouth opened wide…

* * *

 

“You okay, man?” Ryuji asked with a frown.

Yusuke shook his head, blinking as he registered the question. “Ah, yes. I failed to sleep adequately last night. Perhaps I need some fresh air to rouse my senses, if you’ll excuse me.”

Taking his leave down the attic stairs, Yusuke was relieved to see that no one else was in the café proper, the Boss having yet to return from an emergency ingredient run.

Yusuke slid into one of booths.

While Ryuji had been incredulous upon first finding out that Yusuke continued to set his alarm during summer break, the artist insisted that the early morning was the best time to take in the beauty of nature. That morning, Yusuke did rise with the buzzing of the bedside clock just like any other, this time making a beeline straight for Leblanc.

Although he had considered for a moment or two simply staying in, and painting his meditations on the disturbing scene from the nightmare instead, facing the situation head on in the real life location where the dream had taken place seemed a better course of action. Once he could see for himself the real Akira safe and intact, then he could squeeze in some drawing as the group held their meeting.

Unfortunately, he had managed to do little more than thumb at the corner of his sketchbook, eyes fixed on Akira the entire time, barely aware of the saliva pooling in his mouth as he sat entranced by the pale curve of his neck, until Ryuji thankfully snapped him back to reality.

Yusuke took out his phone, waking it up, before clicking it straight back to sleep once more. He had left his sketchpad on the folding chair upstairs.

“Yusuke?” Akira looked over his shoulder with a start. He hadn’t heard anyone coming down the stairs. “…You’re not trying to go to the Metaverse by yourself are you?”

Yusuke was confused for a moment, before realising that he not held still held his phone, but his thumb was hovering straight over the mysterious app’s icon.

“Ah, no-“ He began, before stopping himself. Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Seeing Akira in person hadn’t helped matters as he’d hoped.

“Have you eaten anything lately?” Akira slid into the seat across from Yusuke. “You weren’t looking too good before you left, so I came down to check on you. Can I make you something?”

Yusuke shook his head, despite the insistence of the hollow feeling in his stomach. “Not that I wouldn’t appreciate it, but you shouldn’t keep the rest of the group waiting on my account.”

“It’s fine. We finished up the meeting right after you left. Futuba grabbed my game console, and I’m pretty sure she’s handing Ryuji his ass. He’ll probably demand a few rematches, so we have some time.” Without waiting for a response, Akira rose, making his way over toward the shop’s modest kitchen, where he retrieved a container of leftover curry from the fridge for quick reheating.

Yusuke followed, phone still in hand. He began hesitantly, “Do you recall our last visit to Mementos?”

“It was yesterday” Akira turned around, gesturing vaguely with the wooden spoon he was using to stir. “If I’ve forgotten already, I should probably go for a walk-in with Takemi right now.”

“Ah, yes. Quite.” Yusuke cleared his throat. “You see…I had a troubling dream last night, and I’m beginning to wonder if it could have anything to do with my being afflicted by Hunger, or perhaps my transformation into vulpine form.”

“But we’ve all been hit by an affliction at one time or another,” Akira replied, returning his attention to the pot on the stove.

“True…” Perhaps he was just over reacting. Anyone would have strange dreams after exerting themselves on an empty stomach.

“Here, taste this for me,” Akira said, holding the spoon out toward Yusuke, left hand held under to catch any drips.

Yusuke had only meant to simply take a taste, however before he knew it, Akira’s wrist was gripped in his own, holding it steady as the spoon clattered to the floor, the taste of Akira’s fingers flooding his mouth.

Yusuke bit down.

It wasn’t a yelp, or anything like that, but rather a soft hiss that issued from Akira’s mouth- he was a quiet boy, even then.

His eyes were wide behind the glasses as Yusuke pulled away, focused on Yusuke rather than the wound, while Yusuke’s own darted toward the painting of his mother hung across the room, before locking with Akira’s.

As lacking in certain social graces as the artist could often be, even knew that he had crossed a line.

Horror washed over him as Akira continued to hold his hand up in the air, not moving to wipe the mixture of saliva and blood off on his apron, as Yusuke’s panicked mind fervently wished that he would.

“I should…I should go…” The taste of blood tingled as he spoke.

Yusuke spun to leave, only find himself held back by a hand on his wrist, beads of red soaking into the cuff of his sweater.

“Tell me about that dream you had.” Akira’s voice was soothing, as Yusuke always found it to be, no traces of anger or fear underlying as far as he could tell.

Akira urged Yusuke to sit at the counter, creating a scene that made it look as if he were the bartender, with Yusuke as the down-on-his-luck patron- likely a habit he had picked up while working part-time at Crossroads.

Yusuke was often times slightly jealous of his friend’s versatility in being able to work as many differing types of jobs as he did, while Yusuke on the other hand was good for little more than one thing, as passionate about his career path as he was. However, the feeling faded aside for the moment as Yusuke recounted his dream from the previous night.

“If things continue on this way, I fear that I may become a danger to the group. I request to retrace our path on my own, in the hopes that I may confront the same type of shadow from yesterday. Perhaps I can negotiate with it to lift this affliction.”

“I can’t let you go alone, you know that.” Akira, leaned in on the counter, gaze piercing. It was very easy to see why so many of the shadows agreed to form contracts with him, falling under his charm, Yusuke thought.

* * *

 

When Yusuke was much younger, Madarame had once carted him along on a trip out to the countryside for an opening at a small town gallery. While Madarame had been busy spouting lies to some public official or another about ‘his’ work on the pieces, Yusuke had wandered off to walk the rail tracks for a bit.

Walking the tracks in his particular level of Mementos was not what he would have expected, compared to that time. Rather than the crunch of gravel underfoot, the ground between and around the tracks was sponge-like, similar to earth after a rain.

“There aren’t many shadows around,” Yusuke commented, breaking the silence. “Perhaps the lack of noise from not utilizing the van is keeping them unaware of our presence.”

Akira only nodded.

They continued to traverse the rails for some time, the darkness and relative silence almost soothing, were it not for the situation at hand.

Generally, at any given moment, Yusuke’s mind was occupied with thoughts of art- and lately thoughts of his leader, alarmingly and increasingly too shameless to be dwelled on for long during daylight hours- however, as they walked, Yusuke found himself unable to focus on anything other than the horrible clawing sensation in his gut. Even on days when he couldn’t afford to eat, throwing himself into his art, or more recently, his Phantom Thief endeavors, would provide adequate distraction.

He turned to Akira, hoping to make idle chatter in an attempt to take his mind off of the situation.

Everything became a blur.

With a thud and a yelp, Akira was flat on the strange ground, dazed and sprawled out, straddled by Yusuke as his nose and lips buried in the crook of Akira's neck, reveling in the boy’s scent. The familiar aroma of Leblanc’s signature brew that perpetually clung to him was now rendered nothing less than intoxicating, mingling with the scent of leather from his coat.

He wanted to stop.

_Stop stop stop._

He would never forgive himself.

In a grotesque parody of the kisses he had so often wished that he could place upon his leader, Yusuke bit down, harder, deeper, this time than only an hour earlier in the café. He had pawed aside Akira’s overcoat and shirt collar, revealing a shoulder that now ran red.

More blood still dribbled from the corner of his lips from where it filled his mouth, rushing over his tongue, warm and thick. Yusuke vaguely thought that he heard a shout- as if coming from television set in another room- as a chunk of something soon joined the liquid sliding down his throat whole, causing him to sputter and wretch.

“Fox!” Two gloved hands gripped his cheeks on either side, the red-dyed leather warm and supple. “Yusuke, look at me!”

Akira’s voiced was strained- little more than a growl- yet still holding the commanding evenness Yusuke had come to expect from Joker.

The pair of hands guided his face until he was forced to look straight into dark gray eyes. Despite the mask, it wasn’t difficult to tell how hard Akira was trying to maintain his composure- not out of pride, but for Yusuke’s sake.

Like a wave of nausea, horror washed over Yusuke, as he scrambled backward, off of the other boy.

Akira, having managed to sit upright, followed, kneeling and leaning in to swipe a thumb across Yusuke’s chin, wiping away some less blood than he smeared over pale skin.

“Aki- Joker, you should heal…you should…oh God…”

The wound was gaping and jagged, blackish red leaking from torn flesh and tissue. Although no bigger than the width of his mouth, it seemed to Yusuke like a black hole, about consume Akira whole.

Akira shook his head, hand belonging to his good arm dropping from Yusuke’s face in order to slid out his phone from his jacket. “We’re going back.”

Through sheer luck, it just so happened that Sojiro hadn’t returned from his shopping trip, nor had any of the others come down from the attic looking for them yet.

Yusuke frantically struggled to stand from where they had rematerialized on the café floor. “Where do you keep the first aid?”

Akira’s bare hand- gloves left to the Metaverse- gripped his wrist. “Look.”

Akira pulled aside the collar of his tee to reveal skin completely unmarred.

“Oh thank goodness…” Yusuke allowed his legs to give out as he slumped back down to the floor.

Although his immediate concern for Akira was set somewhat at ease, that did nothing to abate the guilt weighing heavily in his gut as he clapped his free hand over his mouth, certain for a moment that he was about to be sick.

Suddenly, Yusuke felt his insides churn again, but for an entirely different reason- Akira had wrapped his arms tightly around him, pulling him in close.

“Yusuke, I’m okay,” he murmured gently, rubbing a soothing little circle on Yusuke’s back. “I knew that you wouldn’t hurt anyone on purpose. Besides that, it wasn’t real. Our injuries there don’t carry over, remember? We’re okay.”

“But I-“ It didn’t matter _why_ he had done it, he had still done something unforgivable.

Before Yusuke could finish his protest, Akira’s mouth was open on his neck, a nip of teeth sending a shiver along his spine.

“Revenge, then,” Akira explained plainly. “Now we’re even.”

Without giving Yusuke time to react, Akira’s lips now pressed against Yusuke’s own, the kiss so brief that Yusuke that might have thought he had imagined it, his brain still muddled from the shadow’s affliction.

If Akira took notice of the wide-eyed expression on Yusuke’s face, he certainly chose to ignore it for the time being.

“You’re all sweaty,” he commented instead. “Follow me into the bathroom; I’ll make up a cool towel.”

Yusuke shut the door after them, more out of habit than anything, the jello-like feeling in his legs drowning out conscious thought as he tottered after Akira.

“You’re better now, aren’t you?” Akira asked as he ran a fresh white towel under the tap. “The Hunger affliction, I mean.”

It was true, in the short time since they had returned to the real world, Yusuke had felt a number of things, but the all-consuming hunger wasn’t one of them. “It would appear that having…acted upon the urges changed my cognition enough. Although, I am still uncertain as to why this happened in the first place.”

“Probably had something to do with being in the fox body. The fox’s mind probably thought it was real…or something like that. Here.” Akira draped the cool towel around the back of Yusuke’s neck, pausing a moment to study Yusuke’s face as he held onto the ends of the terrycloth.

Although Yusuke’s social awareness often left something to be desired (or so he was told), even he could tell that the look from Akira lasted longer than normal. “Yes?”

“You really didn’t know…” The expression on Akira’s face seemed to vacillate between disbelief and an exasperated sort of amusement.

“What about?” Yusuke hoped that his own face mirrored the amusement, although he doubted the effect, what with how shaken up he still felt. In fact, the longer he maintained eye-contact with Akira, the more nauseated he felt.

“You just seemed surprised…a few minutes ago, I mean. Yusuke, you do know that I don’t do the same things with everyone else that I do with you?”

“O-oh?” Yusuke sputtered. Suddenly any trace of coolness seemed to have been sapped from the towel, leaving it hot and suffocating on the back of his neck. He was going to be sick.

Seeing Yusuke’s distress, Akira let go of the towel, allowing Yusuke to turn and wretch over the sink, hands clenched on either side of it, knuckles the same color as the porcelain.

Nothing much issued forth other than the sound of Yusuke choking on the taste of his guilt, the memory of Akira’s flesh passing over his tongue growing fresher the longer he looked at the other boy. The worst part was, that it had felt _good_. He could still feel the warm of Akira straddled between his thighs, the satisfying feeling of his lips and teeth on Akira's neck.

A hand came to rest on his shoulder.

“I don’t hold hands with Ryuji, or Ann, or Mishima, or anyone else when we hang out around town, you know.” Akira spoke evenly, as if Yusuke didn’t have a thin line of drool down his chin, as if he wasn’t in the midst of reliving having devoured part of his leader and best friend.

Although what Akira said was true, Yusuke had thought that Akira had merely been afraid of losing him in the crowd, especially knowing his propensity to stop and sketch anything that caught his eye.

“You held hands with Morgana the other day.” Yusuke’s weakly hushed deadpan sounded to him as if it where coming from the flushed, disheveled Yusuke reflected in the bathroom mirror, rather than himself.

Akira snorted. “I was showing Sojiro that he knew how to shake.”

Yusuke chuckled despite himself.

“Speaking of that…” Akira gently turnt Yusuke around to face him, “ _You’re_ still shaking.”

Akira pulled the towel from off Yusuke’s shoulders to pat at his face, before tossing it into the sink, black-rimmed glasses soon joining it on the edge.

“I don’t do _this_ with any of the others either…“

If Akira wanted to make Yusuke’s leg stop quaking, this was certainly not the way, Yusuke thought as he leaned into the kiss, although not quite certain what to do with his hands. Suddenly every painting he had ever seen of lovers locked in embrace fled from his mind as his thoughts raced. What they must look like from an outsider’s point of view, Yusuke wondered as he did his best to mirror Akira’s actions, finally settling his hands on Akira’s lower back, lips parting open, as eager for discovery as if he had bought a fresh canvas. If only he could somehow distill the moment into his brush as it was happening… Allowing himself a brief moment of vanity as the cold porcelain of the sink pressed into the small of his back, Yusuke imagined that they must be aesthetically pleasing as they were- Akira could make anything look good after all, even shaky, awkward make-outs in a coffee shop restroom.

“Was that…more revenge?” Yusuke managed after they parted.

“I was trying to take your mind off things, but if you want to think of it that way, then sure.” A little peck to the side of Yusuke’s neck sent a shiver through his already precarious form. “You are a pervert, after all.”

“Maybe so.” If he were to stay locked up in that cramped, single-occupant restroom with Akira pressing him against the sink any longer, Yusuke was certain that he’d be about to succumb to hunger of a different kind.

 

 

 


End file.
